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Today, I will be in Raleigh looking at apartments. Hopefully, by this time tomorrow, I will be the proud, yet naive renter of TWO dwellings.

I am such a sell out. I bet this is how Jonathan Papelbon feels. Except with less hair mousse. And a better house…

Speaking of decisions, Roy Oswalt still hasn’t made one. He is, however, letting other clubs in the “I’m just stringing you along” society. Welcome, Rangers. I saved you a seat. And the internet still cares, see. I think it’s because the 37,000 people that read this blog are not spreading my message adequately. Get on that, k?

A new report came out that says we almost got Curtis Grandersnot. You know what that is? Less interesting than my apartment search.

So. I’m trying to be footbally. It’s a thing. I’m trying to feign adequate interest in Sunday. You guys know how I feel about the Pats, right? Miami girl, and all that. So I’m kind of just cheering AGAINST you guys. Which works out, because my super bowl date is a Giants fan.

So, in a good faith effort to care (and inspired by Jere– whoa. That rhymes!) I’m going to start a Super Bowl pool too. Guess the score in the comments. Whoever is the closest to the Sunday total, will win an amazing Paint creation by yours truly. It’s amazing. And you can print it out and put it on your fridge. Get crackin’.

See, I looked it up so that I can participate in a phone conversation later. I even made bullet talking points. He is going to be so impressed by me (thanks, GOOGLE).

So. N.C. State is like the Red Sox. Noble. Valiant. And. Um. Red. Oh, and they do this thing called wolf fingers. We don’t do that. But they do. Here. Let me demonstrate.

See? It’s supposed to look like a wolf. You put your middle and ring fingers together and press them against your thumb like the wolf is speaking. Yes. See, I’ve only been to a basketball game, but they do this at football games too. Oh! And they get TWO mascots. A male wolf and a female wolf. And they are married and stuff. I think it is romantic. Um. As romantic as people dressed in sweaty furry costumes can possibly be.

(By the way, do my hands look freakishly small to you? Because that’s what the Red Cross CPR trainer said when she had to get me special gloves yesterday.)

UNC-Chapel Hill (Tarheels? What the frick is a Tarheel? Are you sure that’s right, Internet?) are like the Yankees. Prissy. (Really? THAT is what a Tarheel is? Seriously? Where does the ram come in?) And apparently, they have slutty girls. I read it on this t-shirt. Anyway, they are the Yankees. We HATE them.

And today, the Red Sox and the Yankees are playing in Raleigh. But not really. Because it’s State and UNC. (They shorten it to state and UNC, even though they are BOTH in the university of North Carolina system. Like Appalachian State University. The school I went to. That has a better football record. But, apparently doesn’t count, because they are in the wrong divisiony thing. They also call UNC Carolina. Which is really confusing. Because aren’t we all in Carolina? What do they call South Carolina? Because I’m sure there is one.)

So, while I am not in Raleigh today, and you are not in Raleigh today, let us root for N.C. State. Because when N.C. State wins, my favorite guy is happy. And, apparently that makes me happy or something? Oh. And if you have any phone tips for how to talk to your person about his football team, please insert those in the comments. Wolf fingers! Oh- and tips on how to get him to call you back on a football weekend…

Oh. And if you actually know the boy…. like… um… really… let’s just keep this little internet search to ourselves, shall we?

This one kind of hurts, actually. I wasn’t born in 1975. But I was a college sophomore in 2004. And I remember very clearly how I felt about that slam. I remember being in the lobby of my dorm room with my boyfriend, a boyfriend who was on a computer doing something computery. I remember very clearly, see, because, in my excitement of jumping on an old dorm sofa, I knocked it over and ended up doing this really classy backflip. I was wearing my “Go Johnny, Go” t-shirt, see. And my husband at the time (JD) didn’t disappoint. Oh, the way his hair flopped around when he turned those bases…

(warning, Peter, prep your gag reflex)

It was amazing.

And then, 2005 rolled around.

Rolled around. Clobbered us. And… And… well… the divorce. And the bitter, bitter custody battle. The one where, to keep the peace, I just burned your t-shirts in a barrel outside a bar in Morganton, North Carolina… You can keep the cloth, but you can never keep custody of my hopes and dreams!!!!!

Um. Or someone. Someone did that. Um… Is that illegal? Probably. Um.

He got custody of all those moments. Moments like that grand slam that gave me this horrific shoulder bruise.

Moment gone.

Tainted.

Gone.

I’m okay. It was six years ago people. I’m okay… I mean. Divorce is a part of life. You move on. YOU MOVE ON. I have Kevin Youkilis now. I have Kevin Youkilis and DL or no DL, he is in the lineup of our HEARTS.

sigh.

L

PS- I just… (yeah, kind of out of it) caught wind of Miami troubles. Are you guys reading about this? They could get a “death sentence?” I had a weird and entirely un-relay-able convo with our sports director about this. I’m more confused that I was from the original story…

In order to accomplish this, I need to get sports-savvy. And, more importantly, I need sports-savvy street cred.

THIS is me at an ASU football game with my bestie a few years ago:

Then it got cold. Really cold.

We left at halftime.

Clearly, I have a ways to go. But whenever sports lets me slide in and write a sports story… I jump in. Whenever possible.

Today, an opportunity popped up as Appalachian State University Chancellor Kenneth Peacock made the announcement that a decision on possibly repositioning ASU is imminent. And so, armed with Wiki-pedia and my old network news sports director’s number on speed-dial, I proceeded to spend the next three hours fulfilling a quest: Look smart when talking about football. It’s a process, really. One that should be easy for an ASU graduate. Um. Yeah.

After defining terms like Football Bowl Subdivision (what they’re talking about) and Football Championship Subdivision (what we’re in), I knew I was ready to start typing.

I go in with a clear cut idea: FBS good. FCS lame.

13 revisions later, I have so many questions. And my brain hurts a little.

My contacts, my research, say many things. Says increased attendance at games (our games are already sold out). It says increased economics (the town of Boone is under water restrictions and doesn’t issue new business permits likely). It says increased tourism (our roads already can’t handle the bulk of summer tourist traffic. And don’t get me started on the parking). It says more scholarships (but the money has to come from somewhere, and thanks to Title IV, has to go into women’s sports equally. This could put other sports program scholarships in jeopardy- stuff like Cycling- where ASU has a national championship under its belt, golf, etc). It says so many “compelling” things.

But there’s one argument that took me awhile to understand. “It means ASU will never win another National Championship again.”

Think about that.

If you don’t live in Boone- if you’re not connected to the culture- that might not mean a lot. But when we beat Michigan. When we beat… um… EVERYONE. This town was transformed. Sold out stadiums. Black and gold everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

Will we still have that if we’re the new favorite Homecoming team?

Add in the fact that, while we may be able to play bigger teams, big named teams will NEVER come to Boone…

I’m not seeing this as a good idea. Couple that with ASU’s emphasis on academics versus some discussion about what to do about NCAA infractions… and … I’m not seeing the plus.

I’m fully aware that Bruce and Jeb might be the only ones to find this post interesting- but the professional writer in me is really curious- what does the internet world think about the possibility of Appalachian State University moving from SoCon to FBS? They’re looking at Conference USA (ECU, Marshall).

They’re looking to decide soon.

Am I naive in questioning this? Or remarkably astute. Seriously. You decide. And, if you’re Boone-side, a read to the Sunday paper might put a few things into perspective. Don’t worry. Sports gets a whole day with it. I was already laughed at for referring to “non-conference games” as “inter-league play.”

Yeah.

~L

PS- Can you all (even those of you who don’t give a frick about college football) just be proud of me for a sec? Because our sports editor said my coverage was “just fine” and that he was “surprised at (my) insight.”

My Dad and I watching the Dolphins spank the Panthers in Charlotte. That was a good day. And one of the best birthday presents I ever bought him… Definitely the only one that he remembers.

The hateful anarchist in me loathes the fact that the NFL lockout is ending.

There. I said it.

I’ll admit it. What? What are you going to do about it? Think you can take me on, punk?

Yes, I have friends and family who work directly with NFL. Yes, I care about the economies of cities like Charlotte. Yes, I do want to ensure that my old friend, Armanti Edwards has a job. And yes, I’m glad my father has another opportunity to hope and believe in those Dolphins. However masochistic that hope might be.

But I would be lying if I didn’t say a tiny sliver of evil within my soul is slightly disappointed.

And I’m treating you, Soxies, as my confessional. Because you won’t tell my father. And he doesn’t read the internet.

See, without football, perhaps people would appreciate understated American gems. Gems like HOCKEY. Just think. Without Tom Brady wrestling against the Ronnie Browns of this world, how much time would we have to prepare and appreciate hockey and baseball? And the news stories that would come out of a lockdown. I’ll admit it. I selfishly want to see a press conference with a teary-eyed Tom Brady talking about how he’ll just have to move on. Oh, what to do with only bazillions of dollars instead of bazillions and bazillions of dollars! How will they all survive? Oh how?!

And how cool would it be to have a rebel crew come forward. Of mismatched and older football players with a dream. Scrambling together to do the impossible. Bring a nation hope again with turf wrestling. It would be like a movie. Is that a movie? I don’t know. It should be a movie. I’ll be in it. I could be the linebacker. See, I was a linebacker in high school powderpuff. I got slapped in the face. True story.

AND without football, people will be forced to talk to each other at Thanksgiving. Just think! Real conversations. With real adults. About things like the weather. And life. And dreams and goals and stuff. Maybe without football, some people in my Dolphins-obsessed-clan would actually have dreams and goals and stuff. And time. Glorious time!

Please don’t read this, Aunt Sally. I love you. 🙂

Experts, experts here, experts everywhere, really, have never been worried. Our sports director hasn’t taken this lockout talk seriously from the get-go (what does get-go mean, anyway?). I have been cautiously indifferent.

But now that it’s come to fruition, this complete and utter lack of revolution, it’s kind of boring, right? I mean, the same thing is going to happen this fall that happens every fall. The same pig skin smell. The same, the same, the same.

I tried football. And, undoubtedly, I’ll try it again. I will. I lived in Charlotte. And I tried so, so, so hard to like the Panthers. But they kept losing! I have never seen them win a game. And I was so bandwagony. I mean, I grew up with the Dolphins. I felt like I was… cheating? Using my new location as a convenient excuse. It felt… wrong. And seriously, I’m like the Panthers’ kiss of death. Even that season when they were good? Every time I watched a game: They lost. My friends in Charlotte stopped inviting me to games. Really.

And Jake Delhomme is such a nice guy. I met him a few times through my job and he is so nice. So, when people start talking about how terrible he is, when he gets ousted, I kind of get depressed, thinking about how this nice guy has no job. I’m not supposed to feel that way. I’m supposed to be okay with it. Like how okay I would be if John Lackey were deported to Anaheim. But, it was different, see. I think it’s because… um… I like the players as people more than I like football? Yuck! What’s wrong with me?????

And the team of my people, the Dolphins. I’ve been trying for 27 years. I like going to games. But I get confused. And football people do NOT like answering questions. Especially when they know you’ve been watching for 27 years and should know what a red zone is. It gets confusing, Nick! It gets confusing! And it’s hard to pay attention when there are so many neat coffee table books at Grandma’s house!!!!

When ASU beat Michigan and I worked in radio, I got a crash course. I was forced to blog about it, all through another National Championship. I produced specials. I was on the radio talking about football. Yes. I was. Someone actually paid me money to do that. I was told I was hilarious. But I was under the impression I was being factual. Apparently my “appearance of naivete is hilarious” and it’s just so witty how I “dumb it down.” Your face is dumbed down. Apparently I was good at it. The hilarious thing. See, but I was not trying to be hilarious. Not. At. All.

Anyway, once again, I’ll try to keep up. I’ll try to be part of the football club. And I will fail. Ohsoohso miserably. And, since I have this sportserrific blog, the failure will likely be public.
That’s what kills me, really. I try. I try soooooooooo hard to like football. Because I like sports. I love sports. I love the idea of watching football. I try and I try and I try and I try. And I fail. Every. Single. Time.

But, yay, Armanti. I’m glad you have a job. I hope you are better at it this year. I’m not sure why you weren’t good at it last year. I thought you ran remarkably well. Just like I told you in that e-mail. I thought you looked like a superstar.

And Anthony, I’m glad you still have a job in marketing. I don’t want you to be homeless and living on my couch.

And Dad, I’m glad that the Miami Dolphins have… um… a chance. They have a chance, right?

And Sally, I’m glad you will be able to utilize those tickets. And I know I always say I will come down and go to a game with you. And I know I always don’t because when I do come down there’s that beach. And the Keys. And the beach naps. But I will. Maybe. This year.

But I’m sorry, America. I will never, ever, ever accept Tom Brady’s hair. And you can’t make me. The Dolphins may confuse me. They may make up rules as they go along to try to confuse me further. But they are, and always will be my home team. And I know I’m not supposed to like you, Tom Brady.

See how hard I try? You can’t tell in this photo, but I’m wearing a Dolphins’ t-shirt. AND I made a Dolphins headband. Yeah. That’s trying.

~L

Football is kind of funny. Because my family is divided into two factions. There’s the Miami branch. And there’s the New England branch.

Makes for some interesting dinners. Let me tell you.

Will you guys still like me if I ever get savvy enough to intellectually like the Dolphins and not just like them because I’m supposed to?

Okay, seriously, guys. If my family reads this, I will be murdered. Hey… this will be a good test of my nobody in my family reads my blog theory…